Wolfe’s eyes kindled with martial joy.

“It is the turn of the tide, the turn of the tide!” he exclaimed, his whole face instinct with anticipation of triumph.  “The English flag has been trailed in the dust, humiliated, vanquished; but she shall wave aloft over yon proud fortress, which men have called impregnable.  And if there, why not over Quebec itself?”

Then, whilst he made Julian refresh himself with food and drink, he bid him tell all the story of his visit to Louisbourg:  how he had obtained entrance, what he had seen and heard, and what opinion he now held as to the position of the foe and the chances of the siege.

Wolfe was much delighted with the anecdotes related of the courage and kindness of Madame Drucour.

“The Commander shall hear of that.  Brave lady!  I would not that she should suffer needless hurt.  Tell me, Julian, are they in need of food or wine or any such thing within the walls?  I would gladly send to the brave Madame some token of goodwill and appreciation.”

“They are well victualled; but I heard Madame say that the sick were suffering somewhat from scurvy, and that she wished she had fruit to distribute amongst them.  Some of them have come off the ships, where the illness is frequent.  Madame Drucour visits the sick constantly, and dresses their wounds with her own hands when the surgeons are busy.  And, indeed, they need all the help they can get, for the sick and wounded increase upon their hands daily.”

“They shall have fruit!” cried Wolfe eagerly.  “We had a ship arrive to help the squadron, and she came laden with pines from the West Indies.  We will send in a quantity to Madame Drucour under a flag of truce.  We may be forced to fight our fellow men, but we need not forget that they are of the same flesh and blood as ourselves.  An honourable foe is second only to a friend.”

“Madame will be grateful for any such act of courtesy, I am sure,” replied Julian.  “She is a noble lady—­gracious, beautiful, and brave.  She spoke good words to me, little knowing who I was.  It made me feel something treacherous to accept her courtesies, knowing myself for a spy.  But yet I have not hurt them by my spying; I can see that the defence cannot long be maintained by those within the walls.  Beyond that I have little to say.  The fires by day and night tell of the destruction and havoc our guns are making.  It needs no spy to report that.”

General Amherst was keenly interested next day in hearing the story Julian had to tell, and was ready and eager to send a present of fruit and other dainties for the sick to Madame Drucour.  Under cover of a flag of truce the convoy was dispatched, and for half a day the guns on both sides ceased firing.

In addition to the fruit the General sent a very polite letter to the lady, expressing his regret for the annoyance and anxiety she must be experiencing, and sending a number of small billets and messages from wounded Frenchmen in their hands to their friends in the city.